


Decaying Creativity

by justarandomword



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Infection, Major Character Injury, Swearing, a great outfit is rUINED, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 17:13:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13745571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justarandomword/pseuds/justarandomword
Summary: When you stifle your creativity, its starts to decay and deteriorate. Eventually it ceases to exist completely. Gruesome and unsightly, Roman goes through this process as Thomas goes down a different route than the one he is on today.





	Decaying Creativity

Roman remembers the time when he was powerful. Maybe one of the most powerful sides in Thomas’ mind. He remembers how fantastic it was, how beautiful he looked, vibrant and strong and healthy. That time may as well have been decades ago, though it was more likely only a few years ago. His glory days wore out as Thomas abandoned acting and singing for more… mundane interests. No matter how much he tried to persuade everyone that his way was the best way to go, he was pushed aside and told that “childhood fantasies get you nowhere Roman”. Eventually he stopped trying, which leads him to where he is today. Avoiding mirrors and other people, knowing that the sight to be seen was a distressing one. Vibrant purple hair losing its colour, skin turning pale and immaculate white shirt now yellowed and stained. The rolling hills of the Prince’s area of the mindscape look slightly drabber than before. Thomas’ creativity had taken a true dive towards rock bottom, getting worse as time went on.

Roman tried to keep his appearance up, he conjured up fresh outfits, pristine white until he puts them on. A defeated sigh slips past his permanently cracked lips as his hope is torn down once more, interrupted by a sharp cry of pain. He glances down at his leg and with dawning horror realises a large cut has formed on his leg, deepening as he watches, frozen with fear. As if watching in fast motion, he sees the blood flow and then stop as the skin around the cut turns green and infected. As he pulls himself out of the trance, he realises he’s ripping grass out of the hill that he collapsed on. The stinging pain in his cheek and side registers and he finds blood and cuts on both. His pants and shirt now sport rips and an abundance of stains. The decorative chains on his shirt hang loose from missing buttons and his sash fades and tears. His katana is rusting, soon to be useless. With more effort than it should take, he summons a small hand mirror to check his face. Absently noting the state of the cut, he focuses on his greying skin and dull hair and eyes. Roman looks… dead. Well.. he’s not quite dead. He’s dying. After processing that fact for a second, Roman puts his face in his hands and laughs, smearing blood everywhere. Laughter rings throughout the dying mindscape that Roman lies in, dying with it.

He survives another year after that. The skin around the slash on his leg turns black over the months, as do the veins surrounding it. His hair turns a dull, drab, boring grey to match the rest of his body. The last of his buttons fall and disappear, the destroyed sash ripped to shreds in a fit of fury. He misses his sash. Half of his pants rips off completely, having disintegrated when he tried to use it as a makeshift bandage because he couldn’t create his own. Roman watches as everything that defines him falls to pieces, too weak to stop it. He sits in the blinding whiteness of the hellish mindscape, the default mode he had to revert to after deciding keeping up his hills was a fruitless endeavour, one that robbed him of precious energy he needed to keep going, keep living.

The day where he truly dies, he’s ready for it. He knows it is time to go. He stands up weakly, using his rusted sword to push himself up. He stares ahead, fighting down cries of fear and hopelessness as he starts to fade. He closes his eyes.

Outside in the main mindscape, a door labelled Creativity fades away.

No one notices.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is the first fic I'm posting on here, but i have been posting on my tumblr for a while so check it out if you want?   
> Tumblr  
> Main: @just-a-random-word  
> Side: @just-my-random-creations


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